You Break
by bbgirl17555
Summary: Jolie John & Natalie , WIP, Set directly after the "Killing Club" attack on "Natalie" - Something akin to denial screamed at him, that this could be happening, not again, not to her. Updated 10.18.09
1. Chapter One

**You Break  
**

Set directly after the attack on "Natalie"  
_Something akin to denial screamed at him, that this could be happening, not again, not to her._

**Chapter One**

John's stomach churned as he entered the kitchen of the diner, that familiar red hair, that body draped over the vat of hot oil, Natalie. Something akin to denial screamed at him, that this could be happening, not again, not to her. He quickly scanned the room, metal of his gun cool in his hand as he approached the body, lifting her carefully from the burning liquid as he fought back a gag, the mere thought overwhelming him; that his wasn't Natalie anymore, just a body, not her. He rolled her to the side and carefully brushed away the hot strands of red hair, that felt harsh and fake beneath his fingers, like doll hair, except it wasn't, it was hers. "What?" John asked confused, starring down at the burned flesh of her face. It wasn't her, thank god. "Natalie?" He called.

There was a whimper, tiny and child like and relief flooded John's veins. Tucked into a corner was Natalie. She was safe; it wasn't her. Emotion too powerful to understand swelled within him. Most of all frantic relief pushed its way to the surface as crouched down in front of her trembling form. "Natalie?" He spoke in a softer tone, her eyes wide and fearful, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. "Are you okay? Did you see anything?"

She did not reply and John noticed the glassy look in her eyes, distant, sapphire marbles that saw nothing. Reaching a hand out he tried again, "Natalie, what happened?" His hand brushed against her arm lightly and the contact made Natalie withdrawal further back into the corner, her movements jerky and frenzied, wrenching her tightly wound body away from John's hand.

John leaned back slightly, his one hand in the air. Her reaction was startling and unsettling. He had wanted to take her into his arms and hold her close, to never let go and know that she was real, she was alive, and she was safe. But Natalie's reaction forced him to deal with the situation at hand, letting any impulse he had to hold her go. "Whoa there. I'm not gonna hurt you. It's just me."

But her eyes were still fixed at nothing, her eyes didn't track his movements, just stared forward, seeing through him, seeing nothing, making John feel sick and helpless as he dropped from a crouch to his knees. "Natalie? Natalie, can you hear me? It's John." Yet Natalie sat silent. John tried again, checking over his shoulder as he spoke to her. This wasn't a safe place. He had to get her out of here. "Natalie, if you can understand me, I need you to tell me what happened."

Finally with a sigh and a shake of his head, he called out, "Someone call and get a paramedic here!"

"I'm here, John." Michael said pushing his way past Carlotta, who had disintegrated into a mass of tears and incoherent sentences, entering the kitchen only to stop short. The red hair, that still body, just hours earlier she had been worried about catching her death of cold because of the rain, oh god.

"Michael!" John called out and Michael turned to see his brother kneeling in front of someone.

Michael hastened over. "Natalie?" He asked, eyes pinging between the body lying so perfectly still by the vat of hot oil and the cowering form in front of his older brother. "Then who-"

"The waitress." John replied, standing giving Michael room to see Natalie's condition.

"Is she?" Michael asked. He had never been good at that part of the job, of talking about death. Doctors were supposed to be pros. He wasn't even close. Bad news, it killed him, and it seemed to swirl around people he cared about, always a hovering black cloud.

"Yeah. It looks like she was strangled first." John replied, running a hand over his face trying to reign in his emotion, his nerves raw and exposed from the shock of red hair when he first enter, from knowing it was so close to being _her._ He had to concentrate, had to get it together. "Look man, Natalie is ..." The words wouldn't come. If he thought about it too much he wouldn't be able to do his job; he wouldn't be able to leave her. "But I gotta go get this guy." He or she was still out there, and they would strike again.

"Yeah, go on." Michael nodded. "I'll take care of her."

"I know." John replied so softly that it was barely audible as he stepped out of the kitchen.

The diner was a mass of chaos. Marcie was doing her best to calm Carlotta as Evangeline gave details to the 911 operator and Marcie's guard stood around helplessly. Before John even got on the other side of the counter he was bombarded with questions, what happened, was Natalie okay, what was going on.

John took the questions in stride. "It wasn't Natalie. It must have been the waitress."

Carlotta gave a sigh of relief before guilt set in that she should be grateful for another's demise, she couldn't help it though, Natalie, she was Christian's wife, she was her mija. "Then where is she?"

"She's okay." John held up a hand as Carlotta moved to go and check on her daughter in law. "She's in shock. Michael is taking care of her."

"In shock? I don't understand." Carlotta said. "Was she hurt?"

"Did she see something?" Marcie chimed in.

"I don't know." John admitted. "But right now my first concern is catching whoever did this. Rob," He motioned with a jerk of his head to the police officer guarding Marcie. "I want you to call in back up. I want this place shut down for the next five square miles, barricades, the whole nine yards."

"On it."

"Mommy," the bells above the door chimed as Antonio came rushing in. "What is it?"

"The waitress... she was killed." Carlotta said.

"Good, you're here." John spoke. "I want you to stay with them. No one besides Michael and the paramedics are allowed in there until CSU comes."

"I don't understand." Antonio said, staying close to Carlotta's side. "What's going on?"

"Carlotta can fill you in. Right now we gotta find whoever did this." John said before disappearing back into the kitchen.

"Mommy," Antonio helped move her into a booth. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Replied his mother wringing her small tanned hands. "I went in to check on them and there she was. Face in the oil vat. I screamed... I dunno. I thought it was Natalie."

"In the oil?" Asked Marcie already aware of the answer. "She was in the oil, just like in my book. Oh god. Why did I ever write it?"

Evangeline hung up the phone, the operator stateside with the location and having assured her help was on the way. "Stop it." She approached Marcie, trying to comfort her, trying to show her she was not to blame. "It's not your fault. Someone out there is killing people, not you. You are not responsible for what happens in their twisted mind."

"No. I just give him all the ideas on how to murder people." Marcie held up a hand and backed away from Evangeline's comforting outstretched hand. She didn't deserve consoling, another person was dead because of her, because of what she had written. "I'm sorry. I just can't do this right now. I thought it was over. That the killer was only targeting the love crew and everyone had guards. Why is he going after people I don't even know?"

"I don't have the answer to that." Evangeline admitted before turning to check in on Antonio and a visibly shaken Carlotta. "I'm so sorry, Carlotta. Were you guys close? Did she work here long?"

"No. I had just hired her in fact. I think I still have her application under the counter somewhere. Lord, I can't even remember her name."

"It's okay. PD will work it out."

Antonio added. "She's right. Don't beat yourself up about it."

"I know, I know. It's just that poor girl- I just wish I knew what was keeping Natalie. I would feel so much better if she was with us." Squeezing Antonio's hand, she added. "She is so strong."

Antonio returned the squeeze, bending down to place a kiss on his mother's forehead. "She has nothing on you."

Evangeline slid into the booth across from Carlotta. "Don't worry. I'm sure she's fine. From what I've seen Natalie doesn't break easily."

John held the phone to his ear, listening to the report streaming from the other end. "Good. Keep me informed."

"So what the good word?" Michael asked from where he was sitting in front of Natalie shinning a pen light into each of her unwavering eyes.

"More like no word." John acknowledged. "Angel Groove is being searched. Patrol teams are out now and barricades have been set along the perimeter. If he's on foot we'll get him."

"We better." Michael placed the small light back in his pocket. "This thing is just killing Marcie."

"I know." John replied as he approached them. "So what's the diagnosis, doc?"

"She's non responsive, but her pupils are equal and reactive so I don't think she is suffering from a fall of some kind. Most likely? Shock."

"That doesn't sound very clinical."

Michael stood, giving a last glance to Natalie, knees tucked under her chin, blue eyes wide, yet seeing nothing. "Okay, post traumatic stress disorder."

"No." Said John, shaking his head. That didn't fit with the Natalie he knew, the Natalie who could handle anything. "That can't be right. It's gotta be something else."

"It's not that uncommon, John. I mean the human body handles shock in some strange ways, let me tell you."

"Not Natalie. I'm telling you, Michael, I have seen this girl go through some pretty hardcore stuff, stuff that would make a normal person break and she has held fast."

"Well, maybe she saw something." Michael shrugged. "All I can tell you is that physically as far as I can tell she's fine."

"That's fine?" John shouted, not able to keep the bite out of his voice.

Michael backed up, palms in front of him. "Hey, Bro, I'm not saying that I like seeing Natalie like this. Just that it's kinda not that surprising under the circumstances is all. I mean, witnessing a murder has got to mess with your mind." Seeing John grimace, Michael quickly amended. "Well, for people who aren't in the profession of hunting down psychos.

John exhaled, trying to wrap his mind around Michael's explanation, one with too many holes to hold any water. Natalie had dealt with so much, more than her fair share for sure, and she had never had a reaction like this. "Maybe..." He allowed trying to force the idea to fit. He told himself that he should be out there searching, not here. Michael said she was fine, that it was a common occurrence. John just wished he believed him. "Wait. What is that?" John asked, cocking his head to the side, eyes fixed on Natalie.

"What's what?" Michael asked, coming to stand next to his brother.

"Her wrists." John bent down, getting a closer look. "There is something black on them. Like melted plastic."

"Let me see that." Michael brushed his brother aside and peered closely at the blackness along Natalie's wrists. Not plastic, fibers but they seemed to be melted together, fused to her skin "That's odd." Michael commented, bending his head to try to get a glimpse of her hands.

"What's odd?" John asked hovering.

Twisting his body he finally got a glimpse at the edge of her right hand and then Michael understood. He understood all too well. "Oh God."

TBC

_A\N:_ This is my first Jolie fic... Any comments or suggestions would mean the world to me.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"What? What 'oh god'?" John asked frantically as he hovered over his brother's shoulder.

Michael didn't answer; too concerned with the situation at hand to even grasp his brother's demanding question. Reaching out a hand Michael pulled at Natalie, trying to move her out of her tiny space. Natalie flinched at the touch and withdrew back, tears pouring from her eyes and soft cries like a mewling of a kitten falling form her lips. Michael tried again, undeterred and this time Natalie screamed.

"Hey man, what are you doing?" John demanded pulling Michael back roughly by his shirt collar. The action stunned both brothers, John couldn't rational why he did it except that Natalie was screaming, and that Michael was making her worse, and he couldn't risk her.

Michael sat up angrily, brushing his shirt down, his eyes snapping wildly. "What the hell was that about?"

"Look." Said John, pointing to Natalie, who had stopped screaming but face was pinched into some sorta silent cry. "Look what you're doing to her."

"She's in shock, John!"

"You just said that! You said it was stress. So what is this all about? You trying to upset her?" John knew he was being illogical, but he couldn't contain his frustration and anger, blasting it undeservingly in Michael's direction. Natalie, seeing her like that, it was heart wrenching; it made something hurt inside that John had forgotten about.

"Look!" Michael said, pulling at Natalie's arm despite her fresh scream.

"Oh god..." John felt sick, the taste of bile filling his mouth as he forcibly held back a gag. Natalie's hands- oh god. Open blisters that secreted fluid and blood covered them, marring her palms till almost undistinguishable. Her fingers had gone chalky gray creating a startling contrast with the red below them, and they were tipped with fingernails that were broken and blue. His eyes moved down her wrist, the black- it was fibers from her shirt that had fused to her skin. Oh god. There was more, clues he should have seen, her dark jeans had darkened rings from where her hands had wrapped tightly around her knees, leaving tiny blue denim fibers sticking to the edges of the open sores.

"Is she gonna be okay?" John asked, his heat beat quickening in his chest, making it painful to breath and difficult to think. He couldn't even move, his boots bolted to the floor, his mind too hazy with worry to be of any use. Not her- don't let her...Michael didn't answer as he pulled the reluctant Natalie from her corner, her eyes still not tracking any of the frantic movements of the good doctor.

The swinging door hit the wall with a loud smack and John looked up to see Antonio hesitating in the doorway to the kitchen, attempting to preserve the crime scene and John's earlier request while learning what was happening. "We heard screams."

"Hey, help me move her!" Michael called to Antonio.

Antonio scrambled over and seeing his former sister-in-law lying stretched across Michael's lap, blood coating her hands, quickly moved to her aid. Natalie was no longer screaming, the fresh face and the sudden departure from her safe corner making something snap back into place. Antonio brushed a hand over her forehead. "Hey, you stay with us okay?" Natalie didn't speak. Her jaw tensed as tears rolled down her cheeks, the pain so sharp it stole her breath. She nodded once closing her eyes as she did.

"John!" Michael shouted. "Give us a hand."

John was surprised to find the lead had been removed from his boots and that his legs so weak and jelly like moments before were now strong, propelling him into action. "Okay." John replied kneeling over Natalie. "What do you want me to do?"

Natalie's eyes darted around violently, questions shinning in their sapphire depth that she couldn't find a voice to ask. "We need more room." Michael answered.

"Her skin is getting cold and clammy." Antonio interjected. "We need to get her to the hospital now."

"The paramedics have already been called. Okay." John said taking charge. "On the count of three we lift her, we move her into the diner." A small cry of alarm escaped Natalie's throat, her eyes wild with worry. "Don't worry." John spoke bending so close to her that he could feel the agonizingly slow rhythm of her heartbeat. "We got you. I won't let anything happen to you. Trust me?"

There was a faint nod as her eyes locked on to his, frightened but believing and John felt a surge of pain within his gut. What right did he have to ask her to trust him? After all she had been through because of him, it was a laughable request. Yet she did, that was the problem.

"Okay. On the count of three." Michael called out. "Antonio make sure to keep her arms higher than her heart. One. Two. Three." The three men lifted Natalie, keeping her body as straight as they could as they maneuvered her out of the kitchen and into the diner. With a sweep of his arm, Michael cleared the counter, sending menus and utensils crashing to the floor. "Set her down gently."

Her body was lowered and placed onto the black counter top, her weight sliding out of John's arms leaving an empty feeling, as he brushed a strain of hair from her face. "You okay?" Natalie sucked in shallow breaths, her eyes brimming over with tears. "Natalie?"

"M- my wrists." Natalie croaked out through her tear tense voice.

Carlotta had pushed her way over to her former daughter in law, as her son worked to prop Natalie's arms up, keeping them elevated. "Mija! What? What happened?"

"Natalie- she got burned." The words sounded too simple to John's own ears, too simple to cover what had happened, what still was happening. Nothing to convey the swirling emotions in his gut. This whole thing was just another terror in a long string of nightmares. He kept thinking that if he could make it through this one, if he could keep the people he cared about safe, then it would be over. But it never was.

Carlotta brought a hand to her mouth, and exclaimed something that John couldn't quiet make out, probably in Spanish. Before sweeping past John. "Ice. I have ice."

"No ice!" Michael yelled, grabbing the handfuls of ice Carlotta had pulled from the fountain area. "She's already going into shock. What we need is gauze, or cotton strips, maybe some clean rags?"

"Si, si." Carlotta nodded, her hands shaking as she retrieved a stack of clean rags from behind the counter.

"Good." Michael pulled at the rag, ripping them into long strips. "How she doing?"

Antonio turned his face from Natalie as he answered, keeping his voice low. "Her lips. They're turning blue. She's in full shock."

"I know. Help me wrap her hands. Natalie," Michael raised his voice, false optimism shining through a smile that didn't belong. "Antonio and I are gonna wrap your hands. I want you to do me a favor, okay? I want you to keep talking to John, here."

"Not, my hands, my wrists. They hurt."

Antonio and Michael shared a knowing look over her body, one that John caught but did not question. Standard training keep the victim calm. Victim- god, how he hated that word, Natalie wasn't a victim. She was strong. She didn't deserve this, she didn't deserve all the problem that life kept handing out her way. Natalie attempted to stifle a cry as the rags pressed against the injured flesh of her wrists, trying to crane her head to see what was happening. "Hey. Hey. Don't think about it."

"It hurts."

"I know. Just try to think of something else."

"Like what?" Natalie asked, her voice small.

"Like..." John fished for a topic. "Like I saw Roxy tonight. She said to ask you how your night went with Michael."

"That's Roxy." Natalie said as bravely tried to ignore the pain, keeping the hurt out of her voice. "Always has to be meddling."

"We'll I guess we should be glad she left before you got here. She might have tried to lock us in the freezer together this time."

"Yeah. Brings a whole new meaning to the word freezer burn. Oww." Natalie cried out, the pain hitting her hard.

'It's okay. They're almost done. So what where you and Michael up to tonight?"

"We got caught in the rainstorm."

"Yeah." Michael spoke from where he was caring for Natalie's injuries. "Miss AC over here thought that you could actually catch a cold from the rain. Had to tell her that the only thing you get from the rain is some really bad hair."

"Be nice. Or you're not getting your scrubs back." Natalie replied, her voice sounding tired.

"Scrubs?" John asked.

"Yeah." Marcie chimed in from the table where she, Carlotta, and Evangeline were sitting, watching the scene unfold. "Michael leant Natalie some dry clothes. But it wasn't anything romantic." Marcie smiled at Carlotta who was sending a wary glance in Michael's direction. "Roxy just has permanent cupid arrows flying around her head. Isn't that right, Natalie?" Marcie turned when there was no response. "Right, Natalie?"

"Natalie?" John called; tapping Natalie's face with the back of his finger's lightly. "Natalie! Wake up! Come on, Natalie! Don't do this to me! Come on!"

The sound of sirens in the distance made Evangeline jump to her feet as Michael pushed John out of the way, placing two fingers across the artery in her neck. "Her pulse is weak and threading."

"In here!" Evangeline called opening the door, as the paramedics rushed in. "She's over there."

"What took you guys so long?" John barked at them.

"Hey. Take it up with those idiots you have on barricade. What do we have here?"

"Twenty-four year old female, good health, second, possible third degree burns on the hands and arms." Michael answered.

"What'd she burn herself on?"

"Not sure." Michael shook his head. "We think she might have burned herself with the oil vat. When we found her she was already going into shock."

"How long has she been unconscious?"

"Just a moment. She was lucid before that."

"Okay." They replied, as the finished moving Natalie to the gurney. "You coming, Dr. McBain?"

"Yeah. Yeah." Michael nodded before turning to John. "Can you make sure-"

"Yeah I'll make sure Marcie gets home safely, just go."

"Hey." Antonio put a hand on John's shoulder. "I'm gonna step outside and try to reach Jessica. She should know."

John nodded as Antonio left; the tinkling bells above the door doing little to block out the sounds of the ambulance doors shutting, and the sirens fading back into the black night. Sounds that filled John with a rage he hadn't felt since Haver. Natalie didn't belong in that ambulance. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It wasn't- Smack.

"Oh my god, John!" Evangeline rushed to her lover's side as John pulled his hand back from the wall he had attempted to put his fist through. "What did you do?"

John pulled his injured fist from her slender hand, his knuckles oozing cherry red drops of blood as a humorless laugh fell from his lips. The pain was sharp and there was comfort in that, physical pain a relief from the emotional turmoil. At least now Natalie wasn't the only one hurting.

"John?" There was a distressed note in Evangeline's voice that forced John back down to reality.

"No. No, it's okay. I- I just got a little worked up."

"I can see that."

"John," Marcie intervened. "You can't blame yourself. I mean it's not like you wrote the book. It's not like you have that psycho a way to kill that waitress or to hurt Natalie."

"Marcie, no." Carlotta comforted the frantic red head. "No. It's not your fault. Do you understand me? Neither of you are to blame for what that madman is doing."

"But, " Marcie protested. "He's using my ideas, and Natalie- what if she doesn't make it? Then another person died because of me, because of what I wrote."

"Stop. Natalie will be fine."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because mi hijo is looking out for her, my Cristian. And he is with the angels helping protect Natalie and guide her through this."

"He really loved her, didn't he?"

"Ahh, si. Those two were fated among the stars and that why I know he will help make sure she is okay." Carlotta patted Marcie on the back and John felt as though someone had rammed a metal rod through his stomach. So much pain still, pain he had caused, pain he could undo if only Christian would have let him.

"Here."

"What?" John turned startled out of his thoughts.

Evangeline stood in front of him, a basin of water in her hands. "For your hand."

"Yeah." John took the bowl and sat down before turning to Evangeline. "Wait." He set the bowl down and handed her his cell phone. "Press 2 and then send. Bo would want to know about Natalie.

"Of course." She replied, taking the phone from his out stretched hand. Evangeline hesitated but felt she should say something, anything to make him feel better. "It'll be alright, John."

John shook his head, his eyes sad. "No. No, it won't."

TBC


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three **

Darkness hung thick in the air as Natalie fought to open her eyes. Voices low and rushed drifted softly towards her ears; memories of sharp pain fading into the night. Still warmness enveloping her, and she felt safe. Nothing could hurt her here.

Her eyelids fluttered open, a broken moonlight drifting in from between half open blinds. She squinted against the silver light, too pure, too strong. She went to speak but her voice was a silent cry, dry and hard beneath the darkness.

Turning her head to the side, Natalie saw blue eyes piercing through the darkness, concerned and intense. His voice echoed quietly, bouncing off unseen walls. "_Natalie! Wake up! Come on, Natalie_!"

"John?" Her voice was a rough whisper. She was so tired; didn't he know how safe it was here? The darkness lapped at her feet, warm and wet. It wasn't time to wake up. The moon still hung high.

_"Natalie!" _

The voice was louder vibrating against her ears as she shut her eyes struggling to block it out, struggling to stay in her black cocoon. She rolled her head back towards the window, the moonbeams bright and beckoning and like the tide she moved away, a prisoner of its pull.

* * *

"Natalie!" Michael yelled at the red head as the ambulance raced down the street, machines beeping loudly, protesting with him. "Natalie! You stay with us!" 

"Damn." Cried one of the paramedics, struggling to start an IV. "I can't get a line on either arm."

"I got one!" Announced the second medic, starting a line beneath her collarbone.

Beep.

Michael fearfully watched the monitor from his spot up front, his head craned to see the nightmare behind him. The machine beeped without any rhythm, erratic and unnerving as he struggled to think of words. He knew he should say something, something profound and awe inspiring, but as he witnessed the two paramedics struggling to keep her blood pressure from crashing, he could barely collect his thoughts, let alone make up a great speech. So he reiterated his earlier request. "Natalie! Stay with us!"

"We're losing her."

It wasn't grand or poetic, but Michael prayed it would do the trick as worry sat like a lead ball in his gut. And as the tiny bustling ambulance speed through the inky blackness Michael spoke again. "Come on, Natalie. Stay with me."

Beep.

* * *

Beep. Beep. Beep. Tess looked down at the cell phone in distain, of course Princess Jessica would have it set on the most boring ring tone known to man, god she was so boring. But whatever annoyance she felt for Jessica paled in comparison to the new rush when she saw the caller ID. "God, doesn't he ever just go away!" Tess spoke to herself frustrated. She had just managed to get rid of Antonio and now he was calling again, just what she needed. 

For a moment Tess thought of just ignoring the persistent ringing, but if she didn't answer Antonio would probably come looking for her, and she couldn't have that. So with a sigh, she plastered a fake smile on her face, and adopted a sugar sweet tone. "Hello."

"Jess?" Antonio stood in the middle of Angel Square, watching the ambulance fade into the night, pondering how to break the news to his love.

"Tonio?" Tess fought back an urge to gag. "Where are you? Is everything alright? I was so worried."

Bo came up behind Antonio, placing a hand on his former detective's back, grabbing his attention before gesturing that he was going inside the diner. Antonio nodded with a quick jerk of his head, anxiety growing, Bo must not have known.

Tess sat on the other line, tapping her fork against the table. "Antonio?"

"Yeah. I'm here." He paused again, struggling to find the words. Natalie had come to mean so much to Jessica, him to for that matter, despite all that had happened he still thought of her as his kid sister, the gorgeous girl that had made his brother so happy.

Tess bit back a groan, wondering how long this was going to take before an idea presented itself. "Antonio?" She asked again.

"I'm here."

"Antonio? Are you there?" She called out, voice raised. "Anton-" Tess turned off the phone with a click. Smiling to herself for her cunning she leaned back in her chair, that was the end of that.

* * *

"Damn it's chaos out there, reporters everywhere." Bo announced with a good nature gripe as he enter the diner, bells chiming above his head. "Sorry about cutting you off earlier." He commented to John who was standing next to the counter, his hand now bandaged thanks to Carlotta. "Couldn't hear a thing with all those sirens. I keep thinking I will get used to them but I never have." 

"We are going to leave you two alone." Evangeline ushered Marcie and Carlotta towards the back corner of the diner in a booth away from the two officers. Their pain should not have been treaded upon.

John slowly shifted his eye line from his injured hand to his boss. Words not needed, fear already blaren across his blue orbs.

"John?" Asked Bo, terror crawling in.

John met the older man's gaze, his heartbreaking alongside. "It's Natalie…"

"Natalie?" And Bo flashed to the report that had come in, a young female dead.

John seeing the conclusion Bo's mind had jumped to quickly amended his statement. "No, Bo. There was a waitress here that was killed. Natalie- Natalie got hurt."

"But she's gonna be okay?" Bo's eyes searched John's for confirmation. "Right, John?"

John turned away, unable to vocalize his fear. The rapid beating of his chest painful and he wished that if there was a God he would spare Natalie. He would offer up his own life. Just not Natalie.

Bo read the message on John's face. "I've gotta find Viki." And with that he rushed from the diner and John stood alone with his pain, wishing his heartbeat away, wishing away the night.

TBC


	4. Chapter Four

_A/N: No you are not seeing things! After a unforgivable hiatus I am attempting to dust off this old fic and breath some life back into it. Hopefully people will still want to read it. Please let me know what you think or if I should just give it up. Thank you! And without further ado…_

**Chapter Four**

The Buchanan clan was unusually quiet; voices that were normally heard loudly expressing their opinions were instead silent, occasionally punctured by someone wondering aloud what was taking so long. Todd and Blair sat in one corner, her blonde head resting on his shoulder, Viki sat between Kelly and Carlotta, who had insisted on being brought to the hospital, and Duke stood with his father and Bo.

"Here, Mom." Kevin approached Viki with a cup of coffee.

Viki shook her head no. "Sweetie, I'm jumpy enough as it is." She attempted to force a small smile. "But thank you anyway."

Kevin sat on the small waiting room table, pushing aside outdated magazines to sit across from his mother, his eyes carefully measuring her for signs of heart pains. Taking his Viki's soft hand in his, he squeezed it. "Natalie's a fighter."

"I know." She nodded her head once, tears rimming her eyes. Natalie was a fighter, that was true but Kevin hadn't been there when Doctor Miller had reluctantly warned that Natalie has lost a lot of blood and that the burns were very severe. "I wish Jessie was here."

Kelly approached from behind Kevin, a hand resting on his shoulder. "Antonio went to find her. Do you want me to try and call him?"

"No." Vicki shook her head. "I am sure Antonio will find her. She and Natalie always had this strong connection. Jessie called it 'A Twin Thing'." And without being able to help it she stood for the millionth time, wringing her hands. "I wonder what is taking so long."

"What is taking so long?" John McBain barked. He didn't have time for this, every second felt an hour, another eternity where the creep that had done this was getting further and further away, the trail getting colder. For the fourth time that night he had found his keys in his hand instead of tucked away in his pocket, but he forced himself to put them back. Natalie would be fine; he needed to find out the monster that did this. He was held there by some small superstitious voice that egged him on, that if he went to the hospital he was going to say goodbye; and he couldn't do that. Not now, not ever. Natalie had to be fine; she just had to be.

Officer Kelland handed John the barest bone notes of what CSU had found. "Sorry, boss." John snatched the too thin folder without saying a word and glanced over it. Max Kelland knew he should just leave, McBain had been biting everyone's head off but he couldn't help himself. "You know, all the guys are pretty fired up about what happened to Natalie. You know, we don't take kindly to someone targeting one of our own." Yes it was true, Natalie was an officer, but everyone that worked at the station; they were family. She was family.

"Who said she was targeted?" John rose, irate at the words. Kelland bit his tongue, knowing his mistake had been to linger in the first place. "I asked you a question! Who said she was targeted?"

"No- no one." Kelland expressed regret. He understood. If Natalie was targeted, if it was just random then it changed everything. It was a crack in the case, it was something they should have seen coming, it was something that they could have changed, should have changed. And that sorta guilt could destroy a man like no bullet ever would.

"Just- just get out!" John gestured to the door, his gut in a knot, a sick sinking feeling. He knew Kelland was right, knew it was too much of a coincidence that the killer had attacked a red head dressed in the same clothes as Natalie. He knew but… He needed Kelland to leave, quickly, before the rage wore off and the tears that pricked the back of his eyes began to show.

Kelland nodded silently, and with his hand on the door and without a backward glance tossed out his last bit of unasked for advice. "You should go see her- just in case."

* * *

"If you sign here, we can proceed." Doctor McBain held out a consent form to Mrs. Davison.

"Don't sign nothin'!" Roxy pushed the form away, the clip board clattering loudly against the pale linoleum floor of the hospital.

Rex ran to catch up with his mother, apologizing. "Sorry. I found her at Capricorn." Vicki could smell the tequila on Roxy's breath. "I tried to get her some coffee or something first but she wanted to come see Nattie."

Roxy looked mildly offended. "Shouldn't I wanna see my lil' girl? Some crazy cuckoo killer nearly done her in." She pressed a long, fake hot pink fingernail into Michael's chest. "You, you stay away from her! It was your lil girlfriend writing all that junk that got my Nattie nearly deep fried!"

"Marcie had nothing to do with it!" Michael shouted back.

"Still I don't want you workin' on Natalie!" Roxy leaned over to examine the form that Vicki had picked up from the floor. "What's that there?" She asked.

"That would be a consent form to start a possible skin graph." Vicki explained politely though her patience was wearing thin, all those years that Roxy had her daughter, she silently shuddered at the thought.

"What's that?" Roxy was swaying on her feet, Rex's strong arm hold his mother up and Vicki wondered how many times it had been Natalie hold her up.

"It's to hopefully help repair some of the major damage to Natalie's hands. " She signed the form and handed it to Michael.

Rex wary eyes darted between Vicki and Michael. "But she is going to be alright, right?" That was his sister in there, no DNA could change that.

Michael sighed and looked to Vicki, who nodded, giving him permission to speak. "She had lost a lot of blood, and went into shock at the scene, twice she flat lined." Roxy let out a tiny scream, her fingers hanging in her mouth. "But we were able to revive her. She is starting to stabilize but the damage to her hands is pretty extensive. We are going to try the first of many skin graphs and she will need a lot of physical therapy if she wants to keep any mobility in her hands at all."

"What are you saying?" Rex asked. "She might not have mobility? What does that mean? That she can't write or throw a ball or what?"

Michael shifted his weight. This was something he had yet to discuss with her mom; they had been too worried about just keeping her alive. "Yes for starters. We use our hand for a million things everyday, from dressing ourselves to picking up a fork to turning a doorknob." Vicki pallor had gone pasty so Michael quickly amended. "We don't yet know the extent of the damage. We will have to wait until we can run some tests. This is just a worse case scenario."

"Thank you." Vicki replied, her voice sounding distant to her own ears. Michael nodded before walking off.

"So can we see her?" Roxy asked.

"They aren't letting anyone in yet. Vicki looked at Rex. "She is doing much better. A lot of the family has gone home for the night."

"You aren't alone?" Rex asked concerned.

"No, Bo is with me."

Rex got the message, Roxy was in no fit state. "Come on, Roxy. Let's go home and get some sleep and come back in the morning."

"What are you looking at bucko?" Roxy yelled at a man peering around a corner.

"No one is looking at anything." Rex, ignored his mother's complaint, helping her walk, not even seeing the man disappear back into the shadows.

* * *

"John." Vicki spotted him before he saw her. They both wore the same tired expression, ring of worry beneath bleary eyes.

"How- how is she?" It had taken him another few hours at the station before every lead was dead for the night and he forced himself away from his desk, hoping that by the morning forensics would have something.

"Same as when you called twenty minutes ago." Vicki said with a soft smile, offering him a seat next to her.

"Yeah." John ran a hand through his dark hair, "Sorry I called so much."

Vicki shook her head. "Don't be. Natalie is going to be okay. It was a little touch and go there but she is holding her own. Michael thinks she will be cleared for visitors in the morning."

John tried to focus on the good news but his mind wandered back to how close it had all been, how close he had come to losing her. "That's good. Natalie is…" He lost his thought. How to describe Natalie? She was everything, bright, bold, funny, annoying, loving; she was his everything. "Natalie." He finished lamely.

Vicki patted John's hand, noticing a slight tremor. "I know you care a great deal for my daughter."

"I do." Two simple words that could not cover the depth of his feeling towards Natalie.

Vicki heaved a sigh; she didn't want to hurt John. He was a good man but after hearing only hours before from Natalie that he had once again broke her daughter's heart left her no recourse. "And that is what is going to make this very difficult. But when Natalie wakes up I am going to ask that you keep your distance. I just don't think it would be in her best interest to see you anymore."

TBC


	5. Chapter Five

_A/N: I wanted to thank everyone for welcoming this fic back with open arms. It means so much to me that you like it!_

**Chapter Five**

She was trying. Granted she was wrong but anyone could see that she was trying. Sure, Natalie would have known not to bring him poached salmon; she would have known that a burger and fries were comfort food. Still Evangeline was trying.

"I'm sorry." Evangeline's voice was less than apologetic. "I take time away from my day, and-" She halted mid sentence, her eyes closed, tension her now constant companion. "I can't do this anymore."

"Good." John's voice was raised unnecessarily. It had been raised far too often in the past two weeks. He was barking orders at everyone, biting hands that held out friendship or understanding. He was a mad dog, someone suddenly dangerous, taking risks, isolating himself. All he lived for was the case; a new clue, a lead, anything that would fix what had broken that night he had found Natalie cowering in a corner, damaged. "Because I don't have time for this! There is a killer out there and you want to have a little lunch date? I don't think so."

Evangeline looked weary and her eyes were filled with pity. "I don't mean today, John. I mean this." She gestured to the space between them, mentally wondering how a few feet had turned into a river that she could no longer cross, wondering how he had gotten so far. "I love you, John." John sighed and closed his eyes at her declaration. "But you are killing yourself here." She shook her head. "And I am not going to stick around and watch you crash and burn."

"What do you want me to do?" His question was honest, even if he had no real intention of doing one of a million things that he knew could fix them.

"Honestly?" She asked. "I want you to go see Natalie." Her name was hard against his ears, something ripping deep inside. "At this point I think she is the only one that can talk some sense into you."

He watched her go and for a second thought about going after her before sinking back into his chair, it had become increasingly worn in the last two weeks. He told himself that once this case was solved everything would go back to normal, little lies to help make it through each moment. He had found himself doing that a lot lately, making bargains that he couldn't meet; if he caught this guy he could go and see her. If he never went home, it was somehow like he too hurting, that it wasn't her alone in that hospital. If… his hours were filled with if.

* * *

"And if you need any help, Jessie will be right here." Tess attempted a sweet smile, bordering on sarcastic at the mention of Jessica. Vicki had her purse in her hands, a pressing matter at the paper needing undo attention. "Darling, are you sure you don't mind?"

"I'm sure." Natalie nodded. "Just go and do what you need to do." Vicki kissed the top of her daughter's head and Natalie felt a trickle of guilt seep down that she was so grateful for the time away from her mom.

"I'll be back in a bit. And, you?" She looked at her blonde daughter.

"Will stay right here in case Natalie needs anything." Tess laid it on thick, her voice all honey sweet. She waited until the door closed behind Vicki before rolling her eyes. Princess Jessica just kept hanging out around places where she could get roped into babysitting duty and she had no choice but to go along, lest she be discovered. Tess had tried to deal but almost two weeks of no clubs, no bars, and no freedom was wearing thin.

Natalie echoed her feelings on freedom, though she kept those thoughts to herself, feeling herself ungrateful. All she had ever wanted was a family, a real family, and now all she wanted to do was to yell at them all to just leave her alone. She was beginning to bubble over with anger, it had started as a slow simmer when she awoke, remembering nothing, to be told that she might never be able to use her hands and had rose each day with skin graphs and physical therapy that left her drained, crying into her pillow. The worst was the constant voices. Everyone always asking how she was doing, if she had remembered anything; lying to her that she was doing great, that she was strong. She wasn't strong; she couldn't grip a pen without unheralded tears streaming down her cheeks flushed with effort. And now it seemed her mom refused to leave her alone even for a few hours.

"What are you doing?" Tess asked with a wrinkle of her nose as Natalie reached for a pitcher of ice water in front of her. "Stop it!" She yelled, when Natalie tried again to grasp the pitcher, her face curled with effort and pain. Tess yanked it out of Natalie's attempted reach, pouring her a cup and placing a straw in it and holding it to her lips. "Geez! If you wanted a drink you could just ask, ya know?" The last thing Tess needed was for little Natalie Boo Boo to get injured on her watch.

The straw was an inch from Natalie's face yet she refused to take a sip. "What? Aren't you gonna drink it?" Natalie just turned her head away, refusing to speak, afraid of blasting her sister when she was doing nothing but trying to help.

"Oh…" Tess drawled, placing the cup down. "I get it." She pursed her lips and did her best Jessica voice. "But Natalie, You shouldn't be ashamed that you need help. I mean, its not your fault that you're a burden. It was that crazy-." Tess never got to finish her sentence; Natalie had thrown a leg out, kicking the rolling table away, water sloshing all over the floor of Natalie's private hospital room.

"Get out! Get out!" Natalie screeched, frustration erupting and raining down.

'Bingo,' Tess thought with an inward smile. "But Natalie…"

"Just get the hell out!" She turned away from her sister, red hair veiling her tears.

And with that Tess left. "Whatever you say." She grinned.

* * *

DA Colson was making his rounds again. The publicity that was surrounding the Killing Club case meant he was destined for bigger and better things- that was if they could bring someone in. It had been two weeks since the last attack and while the papers were no longer splashing it across the front page he was sure that any break in the case would lead to a banner headline. "Okay. So we still have no official statement from Natalie Vega."

John shook his head no. "Just that she doesn't remember anything."

"And who took that statement?" John had decided that since Bo had been out of the station more and more to be with Vicki and Natalie that Colson was attempting to play commissioner.

"That would be Kelland. Max Kelland." John clarified, wondering how much time Colson was going to waste with this crap. They had already butted heads on the fact that no officers had been assigned to guard Natalie but Colson remained firm. He believed the attacks were now completely random and so not only did Natalie not need any guards, the rest of the Love Crew could also do without them.

"And that was just two days after the incident. Anyone want to tell me why there hasn't been a follow up interview?"

"The vict-" John stopped, the word turning to ash in his mouth. Natalie a victim, the thought hurt his heart. "She is still in the hospital. We thought it would be best to give her a little more time."

"A little more time to what? Concoct a story?" Colson was dangerously close to John's face considering the grim mood that McBain had been in lately. "Or did you forget that we found Mrs. Vega's DNA all over the real victim? I would hate to think that you were covering up a murder to protect your little girlfriend."

John's jaw tensed as his fingernails cut crescents into his palms, trying to halt the flow of hatred that surged through his veins. At that moment John wanted nothing more than to put his face through a wall. Only a threadbare sense that he needed the resources at the P.D. to nab the creep kept him from throwing a satisfying punch and no doubt losing his badge because of it.

Colson, feeling too secure in himself, continued. "I want someone down at the hospital within the next hour to conduct a follow up."

John hated the idea of sending yet another cop over to question Natalie about what she was adamant that she didn't remember but Colson had already tried to have him lose his badge. "I'll send Kelland back over, right away."

"No." Colson tapped, John's desk. "Not Kelland. I want someone different." He looked at John. "Why not you? Yes. I think that is a great idea." He pressed a folder with the necessary forms into John's chest. "Oh and don't forget to fill these out when you are done."

TBC

_A/N: I know I am evil! And Chapter without any Jolie but as you can see its getting there. Let me know what you thought. I adore all feedback. Thanks for reading!_


	6. Chapter Six

_A/N: Thank you all so much for the feedback, It really means the world to me!_

**Chapter Six**

For a moment John had considered throwing the folder back at Colson but something kept him from blowing his career away. If he was completely honest with himself it had been the excuse he had been waiting for. The past two weeks- they had seemed endless. It was almost as if she had died, her smile, her laughter, even her scolding- all missing from his world; her fire placed under glass. But now, now he had an excuse, a reason. He could see that she was okay, was better without him and maybe that would ease the ache.

So an hour later John found himself inquiring at the nurse's desk which room was Natalie's when his brother said hello. John tried to act pleased to see him, inquired after Marcie and attempted the small talk that he was so feeble at before Michael cut to the chase. "So are you here to see Natalie?" John replied in the affirmative and Michael nodded letting it sink in, he was mentally debating whether this was a good development or not. "To be honest I was a little surprised that this is the first time. I had kinda pictured you camping out here and yelling at the nurses."

There was an evaluation to his question that John missed completely. He just ran a hand over his neck. He had not said a word about Mrs. Davison's request. What could he say? She was trying to be a good mom, trying to keep him from hurting her daughter, yet again. "Yeah. The case has been keeping me pretty busy."

That's when Michael eyed the folder John was carrying. "Is that why you are here now? The case?" The incredulous tone made John do a double take at his brother.

"Is that a problem?"

Michael just shook his head, his face grim. Natalie was no longer his patient; that much had been made clear by the Chief of Staff after he found Michael spending one too many off duty hours studying her chart and contacting specialists. Michael had told himself that it was because they were friends, because he was a good doctor but now standing in front of his brother he had no other urge but to deck him. And the truth was not so easy to hide. He started to walk away, annoyed before doubling back. Maybe even this could help her. "She's not eating." He confided, leaving the information in John's hands before leaving.

Natalie heard the footsteps but kept turned on her side, her eyes glued to the window. It was much too bright for all the darkness that engulfed her. Angry tears stained red tinted cheeks, frustration sitting heavy on her heart. She knew Jess was probably back, knew she should apologize but she couldn't, not then. She was in mourning; for herself, for the life she had, for all the million tiny things she had lost. A tear shed for not being able to dial her cell, another for not being able to zip her own jeans, and a hundred more for finding herself the victim, yet again. "I can't. I can't say I am sorry." Her voice was a soft kitten's mew, barely above a whisper.

"I didn't ask you to."

John had felt his heart sink from the moment he had entered her room. Flowers covered every bit of useable counter space, all roses, none of her much beloved sunflowers. They meant well of course, but it just meant that they didn't know her at all. She was much paler than he had expected, only a splash of color on the tips of her ears and high on her cheeks. She had turned at the sound of his voice and the tear streaming silently down her face made his hear tear anew.

Folder forgotten, placed carelessly on the table or even on the floor, he moved silently to her side. She looked almost more shaken at his sudden appearance. The tears flowed faster, a rising river of emotion streaming within her, blue eyes on blue. John wanted to say something, anything but there were no words. "You didn't come." She stated; injury evident in the shaking of her voice.

John wanted to kick himself. He had been basking so long in his own pain, his own loss that he had not thought that maybe, just maybe, Natalie would match his own ache. She was unusually still, waiting, holding her breath; and John felt the loss of her fire acutely and wondered if he did this to her. "It was a mistake." It was, something terrible and noble and selfish. He wanted to help her so badly that it burned, a sour alcohol stringing his throat and setting fire to his belly. But there was no way to take that pain from her cerulean eyes so he settled for brushing a fresh tear way, the soft pad of his thumb playing against her cheek.

"I can't even touch you." She admitted, looking bitterly down at her useless hands, grateful in that second that the nurse had just changed the bandages so they were fresh and clean, and she need not hide the stains.

"Shhh." John whispered into her ear, his breath warm and wet against her ear as he kissed the top of her head. A ferice protective instinct taking over. Too much pain for someone too good.

"I'm just-" Her muscles tensed, frustration bubbling over, teeth clenching at the unfairness of it all. "I am just so mad." She admitted.

John understood exactly what she needed. She needed someone, anyone, to understand, to feel how much she hurt, how the anger wormed inside and left hollow places where love had once lived. He had forged ahead on that path before, he had never pictured Natalie with all of her light and life following in his tread.

She moved over slightly and looked up at him, words not needed as he slid in next to her. He carefully led her head to his shoulder, her hands place carefully in her lap, and he tried to remember the first time he had ever held a girl's hand, really held it. He couldn't recall, it was so distant now, so unimportant, and he hoped one day this too would just be something bad that had happened once upon a time, a fuzzy recollection made soft with time.

She sobbed into his shirt as his lips pressed firmly to the crown of her head, wanting to speak so many words that would not come. He noticed her bones pressing in where she had once been curvy and thought of Michael's warning. She needed to eat, but that could wait, it all could wait, for what she needed the most she was getting right there. And she cried even harder, anger pouring out, and for a moment the walls came tumbling down.

TBC

_A/N: Not as long as I normally write but I hope you will all forgive that given the content. Warning: Don't jump on the happy fuzzy bandwagon just yet. What is Jolie without a little (or a lot) or angst. I know I am so evil._


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

John wasn't sure for how long he had held her, it felt but a moment, yet darkness had already crept in, a starless night visible. No wishes granted. She had coiled herself tightly around him, anger and frustration spent from her weary body, before sleep overtook her. Slumber hadn't come to John, he lay there painfully awake, aware of her closeness, heart aching for her. Light from the hallway poured in, harsh and bright, as Michael entered.

"I saw Mrs. Davison down stairs talking to Jessica." Talking was a nice way to put it. "I thought now might be a good time to…" Michael's voice trailed off but it was clear that he wanted John gone, and John wondered how much Michael knew.

John carefully moved Natalie away from him and stood, a hand running through his hair. "Thanks." He watched Michael check the machines hooked up to her. "She's thin." He finally spoke, unable to tell Michael how worried he was about her, the weight loss was evident but what scared him the most could not be seen.

"I know." Michael said with a sigh. "She has been refusing to eat." John wanted to shake her awake and if need be force every bite of food into her unwilling mouth. Natalie had always been stubborn but this was just stupid. "Mrs. Davison has tried everything. They had catered meals send over, they told her she could go home, all sorts of stuff but nothing has worked."

"Unfortunately, no." Vicki appeared in the doorway, both McBain brothers looking like deer caught in the headlights.

"Mrs. Davison." Michael stammered. "John here just came by to ask Natalie some questions about the attack."

Vicki picked up the folder, which John had let fall to the ground upon seeing her, and opening it, handed it back to the officer. Of course the pages were blank. "I see." John couldn't help the tremble in his hand. "I was wondering, Dr. McBain, if John and I might have a moment alone."

Grateful that he wasn't the one in trouble, Michael quickly agreed, exiting. John rubbed the back of his neck, muscles sore. "Look." He started in. "I really just came here because-"

"I know why you came here." Vicki interrupted, a move that was uncharacteristic, showing how drained she truly was. She stood at the foot of Natalie's bed, watching her daughter sleep, wishing she could have protected her better. "John, I might have been too hasty in my earlier assessment."

She didn't speak about how frightened she was, how she had sat there day after day for the past two weeks and watch her daughter crawl more and more inside herself. If she spoke of them it made them more real. She just brushed invisible crumbs from the white sheet that covered Natalie as if that could ease her pain. "The nurse should be coming in soon to change her bandages." John could hear a subtle shaking in her voice. "She won't want an audience."

John nodded, understanding, people like him and Natalie? They concealed their pain, this was just another bruise to try and hide. "It's okay." He moved to leave when Vicki's voice stopped him.

"Maybe you should come back in about two hours." John didn't move for fear he had heard her wrong. "To finish your report." She added though they both knew it had nothing to do with the police investigation.

John wanted to say something; to thank her seemed wrong somehow. "I would like that."

* * *

She saw herself, her red hair, fried and plastic. In she pushed her, this Natalie, with screams echoing in her head. She didn't fight but went in like a rag doll and then there was only black. The darkness was thick, a soft blanket that muffled her screams. The heat crawled through her hands, skin bubbling and boiling, peeling as the fire crackled, yet she could not pull away. There was laughter somewhere, something so distant her ears strained to hear it. And all the while she watched herself die.

"Hey. Hey." The light filtered in as strong arms pulled at her, pulling her up and out of the terror in her mind. She woke with a start, her heart racing, as the monitor beeped erratically. Her eyes darted about the room, trying to find the source of the laughter that echoed through her dreams, finally her eyes found his, blue on blue.

"Calm down." John grabbed a cup of water and went to hand it to her. Her eye line snaked down to her bandaged hands and then back to his face. Of course, John felt like a fool. "Okay." He brought the pale pink cup to her lips, lifting it so the cool water could fill her mouth.

Natalie could feel the fingers of a blush crawling up her ears but gulped the water down gratefully. He was here. When she had woken early to find her mom she was sure it had all been a dream, but now he was back and she didn't know what that meant. "Thanks." She managed.

"No problem." John appraised her in the harsh florescent light, dark circles were embedded under her eyes and she was pale, much more so than he had ever seen her. "Nightmare?" Natalie bobbed her head in reply. "You been having a lot of those lately?" He asked, his hand brushing a stray piece of hair from her face.

"Only when I sleep." She forced a smile that easily cracked under his gaze. She didn't elaborate that when he had held her earlier was the first time when they didn't happen.

"What about?"

Natalie could see the gears working in his head, this wasn't about her, this was about the case. He wanted her to provide him with a clue, a hint, anything. She wondered what he would do if he knew. "About that night." She prolonged the conversation wanting to savor their last moments together.

"What about that night, Natalie?" John leaned in close, his skin humming with excitement. She could know. She could stop this monster.

Natalie took a deep breath, she had kept it quiet so far but what was the point? It would all come out sooner or later. She had been unwinding lately, spilling herself all over him and she couldn't help this from sloshing over inside her. "That I killed her. That I killed that girl."

TBC

_A/N: Sorry it is such a short chapter and it has a cliffhanger which sucks but the next chapter should more than make up for it. Hope everyone is enjoying it!_


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

The words rang in John's ears 'I killed that girl.' 'We found Mrs. Vega's DNA all over the real victim.' No, it couldn't be. Yes they had found DNA all over the waitress but that could have simply been from working so closely together. "No." He stated, simple, definite. Natalie- she couldn't, she wouldn't. "You didn't kill anyone."

"Yes! I did!" Natalie protested, shocked that he wouldn't believe her confession. It was coming back in bits and pieces but she could clearly see herself pushing that poor girl into that hot vat of oil. She could still feel the heat, demons that leaped up and grabbed at her hands.

John just shook his head causing Natalie's face to contort with indignation, and he saw it. It was only a spark but it was there, that passionate fire in her cerulean eyes that he had fallen in love with, blue flames that consumed. "You are telling me you remember everything that night?"

He was baiting her and she knew it. "No." She admitted reluctantly. "But I do remember pushing that girl in! John, you have to believe me!"

That was Natalie, so eager to convince people that she was a terrible person. It was her wall and she intended to add to it stone by stone so no one saw how easily wounded she was. "Sorry, but no."

"John!" Natalie yelled exasperated.

"Natalie!" John parroted back, making her blood boil. Natalie did a huffy breath at him, causing the corners of his lips to turn up into a tiny smile. She was something else. "Come on." He pulled up a chair next to her bed. "Think about it. It's the same as in Marcie's book. This guy, whoever it is, is recreating those murders. Have you even read Marcie's book?"

Guilt crossed over Natalie's face. "I kept meaning to."

"See. I'm right."

"Uh huh." Natalie glared at him. "And so I am just wrong? You know what? Just leave! I don't need this!" She raised a hand to point to the door before pain surged through her fingertips and radiated down her arm. It hit her hard and fast, causing tears to pool in her eyes.

John was at her side in an instant, concern awash him. "What is it? Can I do anything to help?"

Help. It was the wrong word. Everyone wanted to help, she didn't want any help. She wanted to be her again. She wanted to be able to hold her own cup, and changed the channel with the remote control. She wanted so many things and no one could help with any of them, but mostly she wanted people to stop helping. The rage began to bubble up, anger at her invalidity blasting the first person she saw. "Yes! You can get out! I don't need your help, your sorta help get people killed, or worse!"

The words stung, hitting her target dead on. They left a bitter taste in her mouth and Natalie wished she could grab them from the air and stuff them back in her mouth, so bad was the hurt in John's eyes. But before she could even apologize he was gone, the door closing with a click behind him. And she was once again, alone, without any help; just what she craved. Somehow she no longer wanted it.

* * *

John found himself back at work, it wasn't like he could go home, all he saw there was her. Her fingerprints all over his apartment, the slot machine, the jacket she left behind- tiny reminders of a different life, a different girl. Sure, at the station he would keep looking at her desk, expecting a glimpse of her red hair but the hustle and bustle gave his hand something else to do. The case was spread across his desk, folders stacked helter skelter, and not one but two copies of Marcie's book, both with tabbed pages and yellow highlighter running through the words.

"Come on." He berated himself, there had to be something he was missing. Natalie's confession echoed in his mind, reverberating in his ears. She hadn't killed that girl, but there was something, something about how adamant Natalie was. It clawed at him, sitting on the tip of his tongue but refusing to melt into words.

"You back?" Bo entered John's cluttered office.

"Hey." John looked up, a bit of a smile on his lips. It had been too long since he had seen his boss. "I was beginning to think you had left us."

"Nah." Bo replied. "Just had to get thing sorted out with the family."

"How's Natalie?" John knew how she was, she was angry, frustration seeping out of her. But he didn't want to hear that. He wanted lie, a bit of hope, something to hang on to.

"You tell me." John sighed at the answer and Bo continued on. "Vicki told me you had gone to see her, something about filling out a follow up report?"

John nodded with remorse. "It was Colson's idea. Since you've been gone he been a royal pain in the ass."

"Yeah. I heard about that." There was a note of apology in Bo's voice. "Look. I don't know if you talked to Natalie about the case yet but I think we might want to hold off on that for awhile. She's had it pretty rough lately."

"I noticed." John didn't want to think about her lying in that hospital bed, just a shell of the girl he fell in love with.

"Then you know." Bo paused, and John could see him choosing his words carefully. "One of the nights I sat with her she had these… nightmares. I think everything is still pretty jumbled up in her head and I wouldn't want to put her through any unnecessary stress."

John wondered exactly how much Bo knew but bit his tongue. It was clear they were on the same wave length. "We are gonna have to so something about Colson though. He has been pushing for a follow up interview pretty hard."

"Let me take care of Colson." Bo had a steady grim look on his face. He surveyed John's office with a disconcerting eye. "And you might want to take a break, clear your head. Help get some perspective."

"Yeah." John nodded, a hand running over the back of his sore neck.

"And, John?" John looked back up. "Make sure you get yourself something to eat. You are looking a little too thin."

John watched the door close behind his boss and heaved a sigh, like he could even think of food. His mind was too restless and his stomach a ball of lead. And he thought to himself, if anyone needed to eat was Natalie; not him. Suddenly he was struck by an idea, smiling to himself he grabbed his jacket, and Bo observed with a grin as his best officer took his advice and left. There was nothing so bad that some good food couldn't make it better.

TBC

_A/N: Well another chapter, mostly a set up for the next chapter which I think you all will enjoy. Please let me know what you think! I have a serious feedback addiction! Becca_


	9. Chapter Nine

_A/N: I know it has been forever and a day and I am up in the air about even continuing. I am pretty sure most people have given up on this fic and I don't want to waste my time if no one is gonna read it. Of course that means I am currently typing to myself which means I might need to have my head checked out. I wonder if Dr. McBain takes walk ins._

**Chapter Nine**

She was on the pier, casinos and flashing lights to her back, gulls and the blue sea stretching endlessly in front of her. Her hands ran over the worn wood, as the wind whipped at her hair, throwing flames of scarlet, cherry, and auburn against her creamy face. There was beeping and bells playing somewhere in the distance, steady and slow, and she could smell the boardwalk fries, hot and greasy. It was perfect, and Natalie felt herself exhale, before a sharp intake of breath.

"Ouch!" She called out to no one in particular, pulling her hand back from the rail, a long deep splinter piercing her flesh. She ran her index finger along the length of it and was surprised to feel a slick wetness, holding both of her palms up she screamed at the sight of blood, wet and warm, coating her hands, and dripping in soft plops to the wood beneath her feet.

She screamed but no one looked at her, no one saw. The beeping grew faster, and then she saw him. Her air hitched in her throat and his strong hand were on her shoulders pushing her against the railing, down to the ice cold sea below as she strained to hold on, her hands aching as they strained against the wood. He laughed in her ear. Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Natalie!" John yelled, pulling her from her nightmare with a start. Her sapphire eyes snapped open, fear evident as they rolled in her head, not being able to land, scanning the room for the danger that had been so pressing a moment ago. "Whoa." John grabbed her forearms right where her bandages ended. "Settle down. It's all right."

Natalie sucked in great gulps of air, demons still lingering in her mind as she tried to calm herself. John looked at her with worry in his eyes. He had watched her heart rate jump to 138 on the monitor before shaking her awake. He had learned once that you should never pull someone awake from a nightmare, that you should just let it play out and let the person wake gently, but seeing Natalie struggling against unseen devils he had no choice. Running a hand over his neck, he asked, "Should I call a doctor?"

"No." Natalie's eyes met his, and she wondered what he was doing there, why he would even bother with her now. She had been cruel and cutting, and there was nothing she could offer him now. She was a broken doll. "I'm fine." She nodded unconvincingly. "It's the drugs." She explained. "They give me these dreams."

John knew a thing or two about nightmares. His weren't caused by drugs, in fact he had found that a healthy dose of Jack taken at bed could keep her at bay, for in his nightmares she was always laying cold and still. In his nightmares he was always too late. "Nightmares?" He asked, settling himself on the edge of her bed.

"Something like that." He knew he could press, he probably should insist that she tell him. It would be good for her to get it all out, but since when could he force Natalie to do anything she didn't want to do. That thought caused a small smile to curl on his lips. She saw it. "What's so amusing?"

"Nothing." He covered quickly, and before she could ask more he pulled out a white bag with a familiar scent clinging to it. "I thought you might be getting sick of hospital food." He offered.

She wondered how much he knew, or if she really looked as gaunt as Jessica kept saying, not that she understood why her sweet sister was being so brash lately. She didn't want to eat, not if it meant someone feeding her like an infant but still, it smelt so good.

John watched the emotions play out on her face and deciding it was safe to proceed, rolled the table tray between them and started to unload the contents of the bag. "Burgers." He announced. "Medium rare- like you like it, chocolate milkshake- extra thick, fries, and of course mustard." He pulled out three small packets and tore them open with ease, pouring the yellow contents on a stack of napkins.

For a second, a flash of jealously overtook Natalie, how easy he had it, and she felt sorry for herself. She wanted to yell at the unfairness of it all but swallowed it down, hating how her anger was always so close to the surface these days.

John clapped his hands; he had expected Natalie to dig in and was unnerved by her stillness. "So? What do you want first?" Natalie turned her head from the food and John, focusing instead on the nurses' station outside her door, willing her tears back with a strong swallow. "Natalie?" John asked, confused.

"I can't-" Natalie paused her voice cracking, taking a breath she tried again. She didn't want to be this, not in front of John. She didn't want to be needy and weak. "I can't hold it." She held her head high but would not look at him; she didn't want to see the pity on his face.

John felt foolish and horrible. He had known her injuries were severe but he hadn't realized the extent of her limitations. He felt hatred swell inside him for the bastard that had done this to her. Who ever it was had turned his beautiful independent Natalie into an angry helpless young woman. Exhaling loudly, John pushed it all away. "Okay. We can do this." He drummed his hands against the edge of the table tray, as if trying to psyche himself up for a big game. "What do you want?"

Natalie was torn. On one hand every piece of her was appalled by the thought of John feeding her. Yet it had been a long time since she had a good basket of fries, especially Rodi's fries. Bracing herself for humiliation she let her more baste craving win out. "Fries, please, and make sure they have-"

"Mustard." John cut in, taking a fry and dipping it in the tangy yellow sauce. "I do know you, Natalie." And she wondered how true that was anymore, she didn't even know herself anymore.

"Okay." He brought the fry to her mouth and Natalie reluctantly opened it, her eyes meeting his as he popped it in her mouth, his finger tip grazing her bottom lip. Blue sparks, unseen flew and he couldn't help notice how soft and red her lips were. He watched her for a moment, wondering how it had all gotten so mixed up, how a case had lead him to the girl that had become his life. Without thinking he leaned down, his mouth descending on hers, his tongue gently probing her mouth as she returned the kiss, arching her neck up to met his. Their mouths slide together in wordless praise, tongues dueling for dominance before he pulled back, breathless.

"I'm sorry." He started, starring hard at the food in front of him. He didn't know what had come over him.

"It's fine." She assured him, though her mind was a jumbled mix of emotions and through it all she could still feel his lips on hers, a lingering taste of him.

"No, it's not." John insisted, standing, annoyed at his own impulses. She didn't need this. What she needed was a friend, not someone who wanted to rip the clothes from her body. "I'm supposed to be your friend."

Natalie felt her heart drop at those words. Of course, he was her friend, nothing more. Like any man would want a woman as damaged as she was, she thought with an inward cringe. "John," She started and then stopped, waiting for his eyes to meet her own. "It's okay." And in that moment she wanted nothing more than to be able to touch him, to run the pad of her thumb over his cheek and comfort him. "It's nothing that hasn't happened before. It's no big deal, really. I know you are still with Evangeline. It's okay."

John thought about correcting her about his relationship status but remained mute. It would only complicate matters if she knew, he decided. So he played along, she wanted to act like it was no big deal then the least he could do is oblige her. "So are we cool?"

Natalie smiled and John felt his heart skip a beat. "Well as long as you bring that extra thick milkshake over here." John complied and the two of them ate, joking and teasing, and living anywhere but in the moment. Maybe that's why neither of them noticed the man at the nurses' station watching them.

TBC


	10. Chapter Ten

__

A/N: I was a little shocked that people are still into this fic after all the time away. Anyway, mostly a set up chapter. Try not to kill me.

**Chapter Ten**

John tossed down the papers, nothing concrete in the new report. Jenn was dead, another Killing Club attack. He had spent five day tirelessly working over every last clue, every piece of evidence might lead him to the bastard that hurt Natalie. He lived in his office, finding sustenance in coffee and justice. On the sixth day he had ventured back into the real world, going straight to the hospital, not even stopping at home for a shave.

Michael had looked at him like he was crazy, when John approached him, frantic, because Natalie was no longer in her room. The good doctor had a hard time not finding a bit of coarse pleasure in the fact that he knew something about Natalie that John didn't. Natalie had checked herself out AMA four days ago. Michael didn't mention how he had tried to reason with her to stay, or how he had stopped by Llandfair more than a handful of times to see her. Some things were best not shared between brothers.

So John found himself back at the station, rechecking every report. He tried not to admit to himself that the ache he felt was because she hadn't called, hadn't told him anything. And John was certain that the moments they had shared, the ones he had played over and over in his mind, were nothing more then a mistake to her. Still he couldn't help but worry. He wondered if she was eating, or sleeping, if Asa had finally talked her into personal guards or not. John found his eyes straining too hard against the tiny black and white print as his mind painted pictures about what she was wearing, and if she still had that sad lost look in her sapphire eyes. Finally tossing down the report with a sigh, he decided to go home; maybe a fifth of vodka would help him find some sleep.

* * *

Natalie looked at herself in the mirror, wondering for the millionth time why she even agreed in the first place. There was a line of frustration and a bit or perspiration dotting her forehead from the sheer effort of getting dressed. Her hair hung down in natural waves, lying against her alabaster shoulder, the bright blue of her tank top peeking out beneath them. Tilting her head to the side, Natalie wished she had asked Lois to help her pull it up in a ponytail before she left for the day. Jessica was home and for a moment she thought about asking her twin for some help.

She padded on bare feet down the hall, pausing outside Jessica's door. She found herself suddenly shy to ask for help. Once upon a time they had sat and helped each other with make up and hair, painted each other's nails, and giggled about life. Once upon a time they had been close, but lately there was a rift, something harsh and unnatural and Natalie knew it was her fault. She was so angry that biting comments often slipped out far more often than she would have liked. But still… maybe they could be those girls again.

"Hey." Natalie pushed the door open with her foot.

"Hey." Tess did not even bother to look up from her Cosmo, wondering what Natalie Boo Boo wanted now.

"You okay?" Natalie asked, lingering on the threshold.

Tess turned another page. "Peachy." She sounded anything but.

"Jess-" Natalie stopped, not knowing what to say. She hated this, the anger, how needy she had become; she hated how every morning she looked into the mirror and a stranger looked back at her.

Tess rolled her eyes before shutting the magazine and tossing it carelessly across the room. It wouldn't do to have little Natalie Boo Boo start yelling or crying again, then Vicki would insist on another 'girl's night'. Tess inwardly cringed as she remembered being forced to sit through Steel Magnolias two nights ago, not knowing that Natalie too had hated every moment. "You're dressed." She commented taking in Natalie's black pant and tank top, a departure from the pajamas she had been living in lately. "But Lois has the day off?"

"I know." Natalie replied bitterly. Originally Vicki had insisted on hiring a nurse for Natalie and only after much protest it was agreed that Lois could help Natalie with a few things and in Natalie's eyes the fewer, the better. "I did it myself."

For a brief moment, Tess felt a flicker of respect for Natalie. Maybe she wasn't such a whiner after all. "Anyway." Natalie stepped inside the room. "Could you help me tie up my hair?"

Or on second thought, Tess decided, she was such a baby. "Sure!" She exclaimed a little too enthusiastically and Natalie caught the slight sarcasm but allowed herself to be seated on the floral bed spread as her sister brushed her hair, hard. "So why are you dressed again?" Tess asked, yanking Natalie's hair with each brush stroke.

Natalie hesitated for a moment before answering truthfully. "Michael invited me to hang out with him tonight. He's gonna pick me up at seven."

"Oh so it's the good doctor now?" Tess pulled Natalie's hair through the hair tie. "And here I thought it was the cop." Natalie started to stand, anger washing over her but Tess pushed her back down, and continued to style her hair. "Hey, I don't blame you. He's got a killer bed side manner. I was wondering why he was over here so often."

Natalie waited until her sister let go of her hair and then stood. "Michael is my friend, nothing more."

Tess laughed. "If a man is picking you up, that's a date." She informed her sister, relishing the shocked look on Nat's face.

"No." Natalie protested, but there was something in the statement that rang true. Hesitantly she remembered how sweet Michael had been, how he had brought over stupid, funny DVD's to watch together the night before or how softly, gently he touched her wrists when he helped change her bandages, never flinching at the charred and oozing skin beneath. But he was also the guy who hated how she loved mustard with her fries and had been heartbroken when Marci broke up with him. No. Jessica couldn't be right. "We are just friends."

"Whatever you say."

The flippant attitude set Natalie on edge. "Look. We are just friends. I will just go ahead and take a cab over. Trust me it is no big deal." And she was so eager to make her point, to convince not only herself that she forgot to tell one person about the sudden change in plan- Michael.

* * *

"Natty, baby!" Roxy's boisterous voice rebounded off the dingy wall of the Angel Square Hotel. "Whatcha doin here, sweet cakes? Come to see Johnny boy?"

Natalie half heartedly returned her mom's embrace, careful to keep her bandaged hands from being squished. "Actually, I am here to see Michael."

"Doc Feel Good, huh? Way too go, baby! Ca-Ching, Ca-Ching. So that must have been what he was setting up all night."

Natalie let Roxy's insinuations pass by with comment. Her head was already messed up enough without letting Roxy's crazy thoughts in. "Setting what up?"

"On the roof. That man has been running up and down those stairs all night. I told him what he needed to get was a good bottle of hootch but I had thought it was for that Killy Club chick."

"Marcie." Natalie corrected automatically. "So where is Michael now?"

"I am pretty sure he went to pick up so liberations."

"Libations?" That didn't sound like Michael but Roxy often got her wires crossed. Taking a deep breath and feeling more than a little over whelmed she steeled to do something she never did, ask Roxy for help. "I would go wait for him up there but I need help with the door."

"Say no more, Natty baby, Momma's here." And feeling oddly comforted, Natalie followed Roxy up to the roof. Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

The night was going terribly for Michael. He had a flat tire on his way to pick up a bottle of wine, a sweetly romantic idea he had gotten from the unlikely source of Roxanne Balsom. He had tried to call Natalie three times to let her know he was running late but each time it had went directly to her voice mail, not the right way to start off what he had wanted to be a special evening. His feeling were very muddled when it came to Natalie, sometimes he wanted to choke her, especially when she teased him, and other times he wanted to kiss her senseless and he was pretty sure that his older brother would disapprove of either action.

He rang the bell at Llanfair, marveling not for the first time at the grandeur of the estate. It was beautiful to be sure, the type of home he had always wanted when he was growing up. He listened as the chimes rang through the home, wiping his suddenly sweaty hand on his pants, hoping Natalie wasn't too upset with him.

"What?" Tess opened the door, annoyance painted on her over made up face.

"Hey, Jessica." Michael smiled warmly. "Natalie ready?"

Tess appraised the doctor in a quick glance, he was no Nash but was very yummy. "Umm, she had to run out to do something important. Why don't you come inside and wait for her with me?" Her hand found its way to his arm.

"It's okay. I can just wait out here for her." And as soon as Michael spoke those words the sky opened up, rain coming down.

Tess grinned at this fortunate turn of events. "Come on. I won't bite, I promise."

* * *

John surveyed the empty bottle with interest; surely he hadn't been drinking that much lately. The bottle had been new less than a month ago. Tossing it in the trash can, he sighed, debating if he should just call her already, before deciding that was the worst thing he could do. If she wanted him in her life she would have let him know. Maybe she had finally seen that he wasn't worth it, and lump rose in his throat at that thought.

Grabbing two beers from his fridge he looked around his messy apartment with a grimace. He really should have let Michael hire him a cleaning lady. It was not the best place to relax, he kicked a pile of dirty clothes across the floor, gray and black shirts and pants scattering everywhere. Shit. The walls suddenly seemed too close, and the slot machine in the corner almost seemed mocking. He didn't gamble with her and he had still almost lost her. Swinging the door behind him with a loud bang he headed to the only place he was ever able to clear his head, the roof.

* * *

Natalie surveyed the scene with curiosity. Michael had gone all out. Throw pillows were covering the ground and she spotted more than a dozen unlit candles, there was a low table that had a vase with sunflowers and she wondered what else he knew about her. Even her father didn't seem to remember how much she loved the bright yellow flowers. There was a picnic basket sitting closed and just as she was about to try to sneak a peak the door to the roof opened with a loud thud, causing her to jump back, nearly tripping over the pillows. John caught her forearm without thinking, the door shutting with a slam behind him, a sound he barely registered over the thundering of his own heart. And they stood for a moment, in an awkward embrace, blue on blue, a world of flames burning away the rest of the world.

TBC


	11. Chapter Eleven

_A/N: This chapter went in a totally different direction then I had originally intended. I hope you enjoy it. Oh and I am a giant feedback whore… blah, blah, blah- feed me comments! :-)_

**Chapter Eleven**

John sucked in his breath at the sight of her. She seemed, to his weary mind, to materialize out of thin air and he wondered idly if you could dream someone into existence, need them so bad that without words they were at your side. He took her in with a gaze that missed nothing from the top of her fiery red ponytail to the tip of her black boots, his hold on her arms never slacking, afraid that if he let go she would simply vanish, gone from his world as quickly as she came in, a storm of emotions that swelled the tides of his heart.

Natalie closed her eyes, his gaze searing her, leaving fingerprints of lust along the path. She couldn't do this. She had told herself she wouldn't do this again. She wouldn't fall for him. At the sound of her name on his lips all vows were hastily forgotten. All she wanted was for him to say her name over and over, a chant, a prayer that she would pull from his lips at the height of ecstasy.

"You okay?"

Natalie opened her eyes and forced herself to concentrate. John swiftly dropped his grip on her, suddenly worried that he was injuring her. "Hey." She shook her head slightly, trying to erase the sensation of his eyes roaming the length of her body. "I'm fine. You just surprised me, that's all." She went to push a piece of her long ponytail but suddenly stopped, instead placing her useless hands at her side, reminding herself that she wasn't that girl anymore, she was nothing more than a broken doll.

"I surprised you?" John asked with a quirk of his brow. "I live here. What are you doing here?" It came out harsh than in his head and he watched with remorse as Natalie squared her shoulders, a dark 'looking for a fight' expression crossing her beautiful face.

"I am visiting a friend. What? Am I not allowed to do that now?" She challenged.

John sighed, shaking his head at her tone. And for the first time since she suddenly appeared he survived his surroundings, candles, pillows, a basket (probably full of food), sunflowers; it was the sunflowers that made his stomach clench. "A friend, huh?" The pieces fitted themselves together like a jigsaw puzzle, creating a picture he didn't want to see. A friend that lived at the hotel, someone who knew her well enough to know to get her sunflowers and not greenhouse roses in a cut glass vase. "This _friend _wouldn't happen to be a doctor, now would he?"

Natalie could feel the waves of rage rolling off of him, and if she hadn't been so filled with her own anger she might have backed away from him, the danger evident. But Natalie no longer cared about danger, she no longer cared about anything, everything had been stolen from her a month ago at the diner. That night she lost her playful spirit, her belief that she could survive anything, that no fall would ever break her. Now she was a cripple, a burden, and her days were filled with frustration and her nights with terrors that clawed at her in her sleep and reminded her that she was a monster. _I killed that girl. _

If she hadn't been so irate, she might have backed away but instead she took a step forward, her body within a breath of his and looked up at him. "So what if it is?" She taunted, implying feelings she was vaguely sure she did not hold, though if she were honest she had to admit that Michael's attentions brightened her day and that she looked forwards to his calls. "I'm an adult. I can do what I want."

She was pushing his buttons and he knew it but John was having a hard time not breaking the gossamer strand of restraint holding him back from pulling her to him and taking her here, hard on the roof. To stake his claim on her and to break his brother's bones for daring to touch what belonged to him. "And what you want to _do_ is my brother?" He leaned over her, his lips hovering an inches above hers, a dare, a challenge.

"Got to be better than spending nights alone, or with Evangeline. Tell me John, does she even let you leave the lights on?" She looked down at her own ample bosom and back up at John, his eyes following her movements. John balled his fists, his restraint a wall that was crumbling quickly. "I thought not." She turned to walk away.

John seized her quickly by the waist, his hands on either side of her hips, pulling her body flesh against his; making her feel the effect she was having on him. "Don't start something you can't finish, little girl." He warned.

She was just about to tell him that she was anything but a little girl when an earsplitting clap of thunder made her jump back. John placed an arm around the back of her waist helping her keep her balance as another blot of lightening flew from the ground to the sky. "Whoa." He called to no one in particular. He was just about to insist that they get inside when Natalie felt a rain drop fall on her shoulder, and then another on her nose, and then the sky opened up. Big fat raindrop feel so fast and furious that they stung her skin as another clap of thunder assaulted her ears. She ran for the door only to stop short, not able to maneuver the door handle.

"Here. Let me." John gently moved her to the side and reached for the knob and yanked. A frown crossed his face as he pulled again, hard.

"Hurry up!" Natalie commanded, huddled as close to the door as she could, trying to keep her bandages from getting wet.

"It's locked!" John shouted over the din of rumbling thunder.

Panic filled Natalie's voice. "What?" She tried to push her body closer to the shelter, her bandaged hands pressed against her stomach. "John!" She yelled out as a lightening blot struck nearby, casting the world in bright blue light before sending it crashing back into darkness.

"Damn!" John muttered, his eyes searching the sky and then back to Natalie. He saw her trying desperately to keep her hands from the pelting rain drops. "Here" With quick and nimble fingers that made Natalie's heart flutter with jealously, John unbuttoned his shirt and wrapped it around her hands.

As the sky lit up again Natalie let her eyes wander across the broad spans of his back, he had ran across the roof and grabbed the picnic basket that Michael had so caringly prepared. "Somehow I am not really hungry, just right now!" Natalie called to him.

"I'm looking for something to…" John paused, pulling a sharp knife from the basket, it was a paring knife but it just might do the trick. Bending down lot he wedged the knife in-between the metal doorframe, trying to get the lock to give. "Come on." He grunted out as he worked the knife back and forth.

"John!" Natalie called, the wind had picked up, whipping her ponytail into a mess of knots. She felt the stinging harden at her back and turned to see white ice balls dotting the roof.

Just then John felt something give and click, pulling the knife out he opened the door and quickly ushered Natalie inside. He pulled the door behind them, the wind giving him a bit of resistance before it shut securely. He ran a hand through his hair, the dim lights of the hall making him aware of his state of undress. "That is some storm out there." When Natalie didn't reply, he called to her, "Hey. Are you okay?"

She nodded dumbly and John saw her cradling her hands, pain etched on her features. She was shivering, her arms prickly with goose bumps. "Come on. Let's get you into some dry clothes." He headed for his room, opening the door only to find her lingering at the threshold.

"I should probably just go home." She admitted, feeling foolish and out of place. The moment on the roof had passed and under the lights she couldn't pretend to be whole and beautiful.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's nasty out there." As if to prove his point, the lights flickered, once, twice, before going out completely and casting the room into complete darkness. Natalie stood stone still, an old fear creeping up as she listened to John fumble around. He struck a match and lit a small pillar candle. John waited as Natalie took a tentative step inside. "I think you better just plan on spending the night here."

TBC


	12. Chapter Twelve

_A/N: It's the weekend! That means more fics. I know I started this story forever ago but recent OLTL has actually been inspiring instead of the muse killing mess it normally is. Please, please, please leave feedback. It is my crack of choice.- Becca- _

**Chapter Twelve**

Natalie stood silently as John fumbled around the pitch black apartment before a lighter and four candles had been located bathing the dingy walls with warm light. She didn't trust herself to speak, her head a muddled mess and her body exhausted and John so near.

"There," John spoke as he lit the last of the candles. "That's better." Natalie nodded dumbly, struggling to control the shivers that made her fight to keep her teeth from chattering. "Hey, you're cold." It was a statement, not a question as he ran his strong arms up and down her goose bumped flesh. She shivered again, a bolt of electricity shooting down her spine and she knew it had nothing to do with the cold.

"A little." She admitted, backing away from him slightly. She couldn't do this, not again. She would not throw herself at him or read too much into the way his fingers seemed to linger on her arms.

John stood, a twinge of pain marring his features before the impassive mask was back in place, and he silently berated himself for not being able to stay away from her, a moth to her flame. "Umm. Let's get you some dry clothes." He went to his dresser, grateful for the space that seemed to bring reality crashing back as he searched through his drawers finally pulling out a long button top and a pair of sweat pants. "Here." He returned, holding out the clothes for Natalie to take. "I can put a candle in the bathroom. You can change in there."

Natalie stared at the outstretched clothes, her mind remembering with painful details how long it had taken her to get dressed that afternoon. She was simply too exhausted, too sore to even begin to try to wage that war again, especially in a tiny bathroom. "No, I'm okay." She lied, trying to ignore the chill that was setting into her bones.

"Natalie." John spoke her name slowly, it rolling off his tongue in a measured way, slightly scolding yet not harsh. "You are freezing. Take the clothes."

When she didn't move he took a step forward, meaning to press the dry clothes in her hands and make her stop being so damn stubborn. Natalie seemed to catch his intention a split second early as if she could read him and withdrew her arm sharply, bringing her wounded hands deep at her sides, nearly behind her back, protecting herself. John's silk shirt that had been wrapped around them fluttered to the ground, a flag of black silk, separating the two of them, him in his place and her in hers. John suddenly felt foolish. "Christ, Natalie," he spoke in a rushed apologetic way, hating the way she had withdrawn so suddenly, hating himself for not knowing, or for knowing but for forgetting, forgetting all the pain she had to still endure. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Natalie insisted, still keeping her hands tucked safely away. They ached, throbbing with pain where the rain and hail had pounded against the bandages and she hated how John was looking at her, with pity in his eyes. She turned slightly unable to face him. "Maybe a blanket…" Her words drifted off into silence and she stood there losing the battle to look at him when the quiet sat too heavy on her ears. "What?"

John had waited, through the silence, waited until she would look at him and hopefully see that it was just him, not someone judging, just him. Didn't she know by now that he couldn't help but love her? "I'll help you." He said simply.

"No." She shook her head in protest.

"Yes." It was a quiet word but there was force beneath it, there would be no argument. He moved in front of her and her head fell, her eyes glued to the four inch of wood floor between the tips of her shoes and his. "Natalie." He called, forcing her to look at him. "It's just me."

That was what she was afraid of, _him_. The way her pulse quickened whenever they were within a breath of each other, or the way she could feel her legs become wobbly whenever he looked at her, really looked at her, devouring her with his eyes. She nodded wordlessly, her mind unable to focus on anything but how close he was to her.

"Okay. Shirt." He fumbled with the edge of her blue tank top, pulling the wet cotton slowly up over her head as she lifted her arms obligingly. He tried not to notice how soft her skin felt as the tips of his fingers grazed over it lightly as he disrobed her, or the black lace bra that she wore underneath, her breasts straining against the sheer fabric. Tenderly he pulled the shirt on one arm, then the other, the back of his hand brushing against the wet strands of her ponytail as he helped her easy her shoulders into the fabric. He swallowed hard, as he began to button the tiny white buttons, his fingers trembling with longing to play over her silky skin. He did five working his way up for her navel, fumbling at the sixth before Natalie halted him.

"That's good enough." She spoke in a hushed voice, slightly breathless, the air having been trapped in her lungs at the feel of his fingers splayed across her goose-bumped flesh.

"Okay." He knew he was repeating himself but his brain was too clouded with images of her writhing beneath him to think of anything more eloquent. He kneeled in front of her reaching for on foot, settling it on his bended knee. "Boots." He commented to himself, wondering if he knew the effect she was having on him, the pure torture she was inflicting on him, she was like a fantasy come to life yet just out of reach. He unzipped one boot, then the other, his hand cupping her strong calves as he took off the black leather shoes.

"They belong to Jessica, I sort of borrowed them without asking." He didn't need that information but she needed to say something to drown out the thundering of her own heart booming in her ears. Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips, no real thought on her mind but the feel of his strong calloused hands on her legs.

"Nothing like a little larceny between family?" John smiled up at Natalie, and she suddenly felt much warmer, the tips of her ears growing a faint pink as the fingers of a blush crawled up the back of her neck.

"Something like that…" The words seem to die on her lips as she felt a hand on her hip and another one undoing the clasp on her pants under his long shirt, the fabric bunching slightly. She didn't dare to look at him, he was still on his knees in front of her and there way laid too many thoughts that would have her throwing herself into his bed. So instead she held her breath and closed her eyes, relishing every touch while mentally berating herself for doing so.

John felt his restraint wavering. He had tried to act nonchalant about the whole thing but how could a mere mortal compete with a goddess like Natalie? She was like perfection in his hands, his thumb popping the top clasp on her black pants, before lowering the zipper, the teeth pulling apart slowly. He tried not to notice the pair of black silk panties she wore as he moved his hands to her hips, pealing away the black fabric, the pants pooling at her knees before he lifted one leg and then another from the wetness and pushed them aside. Her legs seemed to stretch on for miles and for a long lingering moment he wanted to do nothing but to feel them wrap around him as he throbbed inside of her.

"John?" Natalie spoke tentatively when the movement stopped. The air was cool and she could tell he was looking at her, his eyes seeming to burn her flesh with each sweeping gaze.

Her voice snapped his out of his reverie and John quickly grabbed at the sweat pants. "Sorry." He apologized as he hastily and somewhat clumsily helped her pull them on. They were too big and gathered in large folds over her feet, enveloping them in the soft gray cotton. Natalie instinctively went to pull at the drawstring but stopped, a wince of pain crossing her face. "Here, let me." John pulled at the white cord, pulling it tightly around Natalie's tiny waist and securing it with a knot.

"Thanks." Natalie shuffled to the sofa, her feet hidden from view, her body eased into the cushions and she let out a soft sigh, and to John's eyes she looked like a tired orange kitten curling into a ball to sleep. "You can sit, you know." Natalie commented as John stood watching her.

John sat, taking refugee at the other end of the small couch, trying his best to keep his distance. "It sounds bad out there." The sounds of thunder and hail on the window pane traveled through the small apartment, the only noise puncturing the silence.

"I hate storms." Natalie admitted, brining her knees up to her chest.

"I know what you mean. As a kid they really used to scare me."

"John McBain scared of a storm?" There was a warm teasing quality to her voice that seemed to brighten the whole apartment.

"Hey don't laugh. One time Mikey though it would be funny to lock me out of the house during one. Mom was at work and Dad had just…" His voice trialed off, not daring to touch that subject, not then. "Anyway I nearly got killed by some falling branches. I haven't exactly been a fan ever since."

"Make sense." Natalie admitted and she wondered how it was so easy to fall into being them, talking, sharing, just being. She tried to stifle a yawn that rose, fatigue settling in.

"Tired?"

"A little." John smiled to himself at her admission, wondering if that was all she would ever admit to. "Why don't you take the bed?" He gestured with the nod of his head to the small adjacent bedroom. "Get some rest."

She shook her head. "No, I should really just wait for the storm to pass and go home."

John saw how edgy his suggestion had made her and speculated it had to do with what had happened on the roof, and guilt surged in his veins. He had had no right to have treated her like that, she wasn't his and as much as the thought pained him if she wanted to be with Michael who was he to stop her? He, who let her dead husband sit in Statesville prison and didn't tell her? He had no rights where she was concerned, none at all. "Natalie…" He started slow, sifting for the words. "About on the roof- I'm sorry."

Natalie turned to look at him, weighing the extent of him in a long piercing gaze so honest and unabashed that John did not even dare to turn away. "We are just friends." The words ground out like a discarded cigarette under her heel, it was amazing how one word could hurt so much.

"I know." John couldn't stand to look at her, not to have her repeat the lie that he had told to her countless times.

And the she spoke again and his world seemed to shift slightly, unhinging itself. "Michael is just helping me. I wouldn't do that to you." Her voice was soft but his ears captured every syllable. It was something, an affirmation that she knew, at least in part, how dear she was to him.

"Natalie…" There was a battle raging within him, words that seem to hang at the tip of his tongue searching for escape in the darkness.

She sighed, a cross of exhaustion and frustration coming out in one huffy breath. She didn't want to do this now. She didn't want to get into the hows and whys they couldn't be them. "Can we- can we just not? Not now. I can't."

John nodded and didn't press. He owed her at least that much. "Are you in pain?" Her blue eyes told him too much, more than he wanted to know so he cleared his throat while clarifying his words. "Your hands? Are they- Do they hurt?"

Natalie swallowed hard, glaring at the bandages, in the end it would always come back to that, she was broken. "They hurt a little. I really need to get home and change the bandages."

"Hold on." John stood, caring a candle into the bathroom. Natalie listened over the sounds of the storm to hear him rummaging through cabinets before coming back with a white first aid kit under his arm. "Here." He sat next to her, very close. He was acutely aware of everywhere they touched, even the places where his pant leg pressed against the soft fold of the gray sweats she was wearing, a hypersensitivity that was both wonderful and horrible, causing an unease knot in his stomach that was like pain only not. "Let me do it."

She opened her mouth to speak but there seemed to be no words left in her at all. Didn't he know she couldn't do this? She couldn't keep letting herself be fragile and needy before him? Because no matter how her heart raced, whenever they were near in the end there was no them, just him, just her. She pulled her hands back towards her chest, away from him and there was no mistaking the pain in his cerulean eyes. "John…"

He could hear the tears in her voice, a prayer, a plead, to let her apologize for some imagined sin, for being saved only to slip into the darkness anyway. He couldn't take the sound of so much sadness, and the way her eyes fill with tears- it had to stop. He had learned long ago that being in Natalie's world meant having to sit by and watch her struggle with more burdens than anyone should have to, it meant hurting for her every time she stumbled and fought bravely to once again find her footing. He knew that but it didn't stop it from breaking his soul, from making him doubt in light and goodness and God. It hurt; it hurt so much to watch her hurt, killing him from the inside out. All he wanted to do was to save her, keep her safe, keep all of her light and happiness intact. "Natalie," His voice grew soft, some of his helplessness seeping into a single plea. "Please."

She didn't want to let him, to be stretched naked and bare before him but gathering up what inner strength she had she moved her hands, settling them feather light in his lap. With fingers that slightly trembled, John carefully undid the bandages in a way that felt more intimate then when he had been undressing her. Natalie swallowed hard, her head down, not willing to see the repulsion she knew would be reflected in his eyes at the sight of her damaged hands. She instead listened intently to the thunder, trying to ignore the sound of his breath catching in his chest as he pulled the last of the bandage from her corroded flesh.

John swallowed hard at the sight of her unveiled injuries, forcing down the bile that rose into his mouth. Her once beautiful slender hands were nothing more than a red mess with charred flesh, sores with yellowish centers that oozed, her fingertips were broken off, fingers warped flesh that seem to fold in on itself. "My God."

He felt Natalie stiffen under the words that slipped from his lips. "It's okay." She spoke to her knees fighting the conflicting urges to both run away and to launch herself into his arms. "It looks worse than it is." She raised her head at that, as if daring him to contradict her.

It was not okay, not really, but he understood. Sometimes you pretend the wound wasn't so bad, the cut so deep, so that you can make it though one moment to the next and sometimes in the imaginary it becomes almost true, things dulling under the lie. So he just nodded. He pulled out clean bandages, and with more tenderness than he knew he possessed wrapped her hands. Natalie sat stock still, tears pooling in her eyes at each soft and touch, his fingers never flinching at the misshapen skin, caressing it like she was some sort of beautiful doll, not a broken toy. And once her hands were safely cocooned in white linen he raised one hand to his lips, kissing her one palm and then the other in a move that tugged at her heart and she wondered how she could possibly love him anymore. "All better." He announced, it was a lie but at the moment it seemed like truth.

"John…" There were tears in her voice and not able to take one more drop of her sadness John pulled her forward, moving her tired body onto his lap.

"Shh." His breath was warm against her ear, sending a tingle down her spine. "It's okay. I've got you." And he bent down placing a kiss on the top of her head as soft tears fell on his chest. "I won't let anything happen to you. Never again." He vowed and with her in his arms the storm didn't seem so scary nor the night as dark.


End file.
